


Rollercoasters and Rainy Tuesdays

by 1BloggerandSociopathX1



Series: Heaps of Johnlock [3]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom, Teenlock - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: AU, Amusement Park, Fluff, John is flirty, M/M, Oneshot, Sherlock is an underpaid employee at amusement park, Summer Holiday, Teenlock, and way too hyper, just a cute little thing for summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:25:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4332024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1BloggerandSociopathX1/pseuds/1BloggerandSociopathX1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seventeen year old Sherlock Holmes didn't think his summer job could be anything, but boring. He just sat in the boiling sun and announced what to do, and what not to do over and over again to all the riders on one of the rollercoasters at Thorpe Amusement Park, even though most of the instructions were pretty obvious. At least, that was the case, until one rainy Tuesday in the middle of July when a short boy with poofy blonde hair and a warm laugh rode into his life on a coaster of flirtation and smiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rollercoasters and Rainy Tuesdays

When it comes to most British people, two things are certain; they complain a lot, and when it comes to the weather, they complain even more. Especially when it's hot. At least, for Sherlock Holmes this was the truth. He already complained a lot, even without the weather's influence. And on this particular day, in his seventeenth year, in the middle of July, with the boiling sun glaring down upon him in all its fiery glory, he complained. A lot. This wouldn't have been a problem, if it weren't for his job. He didn't apply to work at the amusement park because he needed money or the experience, but because of his pride. This particular summer, after an argument with his parents that ultimately ended with them thinking he couldn't get a job, Sherlock Holmes decided to actually get employed to prove them wrong. His parents didn't think he could work, so he worked extremely hard to send in a good application to Thorpe Amusement Park and got hired for the summer season.

What Sherlock hadn't counted on, was the damn heat. He thought that he would be placed in an ice cream stand, under a nice, shady umbrella in a far off corner of the park. Or in an air conditioned gift shop selling overpriced t-shirts and key chains to sweaty customers. He thought he'd get some sensible job, but no. Of  _course_ he'd made a bad impression on his first day of orientation with his manager. And of  _course_ mentioning that, "trying to woo the roller coaster engineer with that haircut won't work, not with your recently issued divorce," would get him in possibly the worst job in the whole park, besides cleaning up the vomit from The Stealth roller coaster. So that was how he found himself in the middle of summer break, with his cheap, Employee Required t-shirt sticking to the sweat on his back, as he spoke into a microphone in a little booth right next to one of the most popular attractions, the Swarm.

The booth was, to put it bluntly, a Tin Can of Death. It was made of metal and was painted black (which in retrospect looked relatively snazzy with the silver sign,  _The Swarm,_ painted on the side, but the designers seemed to forget that when you place a black, metal death machine just out of the cool shade of the awning covering the area where the visitors entered the coaster, the worker inside could possibly melt). This booth sat dangerously close to where the roller coaster blasted off, in Sherlock's opinion. He had often measured just how close it was to the tracks, and was reassured countless times by other employees that "it's far enough away, read the employee handbook," which he never read, because who had time to read a poorly written guide about how to push the button to start a roller coaster? Of course, he had the time to read a poorly written guide about how to push the button to start a roller coaster in that Booth of Doom, but he wasn't _that_ bored.

 He could have sworn that manager really hated him, because somehow whenever he would come into work, the fan in the booth would always magically stop working. He spent many incredibly hot days mulling over how this evil manager managed to always break the machine just before his shift started, then fix it right when Sherlock would try to tell an engineer. Of course this was a preposterous idea, as the manager couldn't actually do this without getting caught by the security camera, but with nothing better to do, coming up with different scenarios in which the manager could possibly break, then fix the small, electric fan over and over was a good pass time.

The only way he didn't get heatstroke was by opening the windows of the booth, which was absolutely a last resort, in which the alternative was literally dying, as opening those windows seemed, to some people, an invitation to _talk_ to him. Molly Hooper was the only person who regularly visited Sherlock in the bloody booth. Molly was about his age, and had gotten the job to pay his father's medical bills, as he had lung cancer and her family wasn't exactly wealthy. Molly was a sweet girl, who was utterly obsessed with merrily asking how Sherlock's day was going, even though every day the answer, "bloody brilliant," was just as sarcastic and rude as the day previous. Molly was assigned to ensure that all of the visitors' harnesses were secure before the ride began, along with some other boy who brought a Game Boy to work and played whenever there was a break in the endless line adrenaline junkies eager to ride. The boy never spoke to either of them and usually stood in the cool shade near the entrance of the ride, so the only person Molly could talk to death, was poor Sherlock. What Sherlock always regularly reminded Molly, was that she was employed to make sure no one fell out of the coaster, not make him want to fling himself off of it.

Sherlock was having a terrible day on a particular Tuesday of July. The forecast that morning had predicted rain, and the weather followed through with showers covering the amusement park all morning, leaving behind puddles, humidity, and moist air. This humidity made his hair a complete disaster, as opposed to his normal, unruly curls that normally just looked a bit messy. As much as Sherlock pretended not to care what other people thought, he did care about the state of his hair, because he liked his hair. It was probably the only thing about him that he really liked at all. His eyes were too cold and harsh, his face too angular along with the rest of his body. Everything about him seemed like he should have been taller, but he simply wasn't. Despite his average height, his porcelain skin and angular face made him stand out from the crowd. His curls were welcomed, though. They were soft and framed his face, adding the dark, softer contrast needed against his harsh features and paleness. So, the humidity ruining his perfect curls made making them frizzy and far too poofy for his liking, was enough to ruin his day. The humidity also made him sweat, and resulted in a slow, agonizingly boring day of hardly any visitors coming to the park. Usually the lag in people would be welcome, but that meant they didn't run the coaster as much as usual, meaning the few seconds of cool breeze that he got as the coaster zoomed past his little booth was missing throughout the entire, humid morning.

Sherlock had been trying to cool himself with the park required Employee Handbook, that each booth was required to have, as Molly leaned through the open window. She was talking about some stupid show that she had started watching, and wouldn't stop no matter how many eye rolls Sherlock gave her. Around noon, an hour or so after the rain had stopped, the largest group of the day showed up, and Sherlock sighed dramatically. They were all teenagers, and they seemed to be friends; talking, laughing, and running through the designated walkways to get to the coaster. He wondered why they would even decide to come to the amusement park on such a terrible day to be outside, but he assumed that this particular, loud group of teens hadn't found any common sense yet in their short lifetime.

Another terrible part about the placement of the booth, was that it was right next to where visitors kept their belongings that weren't allowed on the ride. Small, wooden cubbies, that were designed to hold bags and hats. They were right next to the booth and in sight of the window that happened to be open so Sherlock could get a small breeze now and then. Sherlock usually had to ignore the visitors' gazes until they eventually put up their belongings and got on the ride, and today was no exception. A few teenagers stepped through the elevated seats and walked across the platform to put away their purses, phones, or limited edition, extremely and stupidly expensive, name-brand hats, while the others got in their seats.

Sherlock had been trying to avoid all their gazes as they walked by the booth, until something caught his attention. A laugh. Not loud and booming like the other teenagers', but warm and inviting. It didn't seem like much, but when he followed the sound, he found a boy laughing at some joke his friend had made a few feet away from the booth. He was completely ordinary at first glance. He had blonde hair, which was wild from other rides, Sherlock assumed, and blue eyes. He was fairly short, but it was apparent by his muscles (which showed quite obviously, due to his sleeveless shirt, Sherlock noted) and the teenagers he was around that he was about Sherlock's age. He hadn't even realized he had been staring at the boy's impressive arms until the same friend he had been laughing with elbowed him lightly and nodded over to Sherlock.

Sherlock's heart seemed to stop beating briefly as the boy looked at him, the smile still on his face from laughing. His lips closed to cover his pearly white teeth as he looked at Sherlock through the open window. The boy stared back at Sherlock and Sherlock couldn't seem to pry his icy blue eyes away, when suddenly he saw the boy's tongue dart across his pink lips, wetting them quickly before he turned away. Sherlock tried to convince himself that he had imagined the blush he saw on the shorter boy's face. He also tried to convince himself that he didn't see the boy look at him again out of the corner of his eye while saying something to his friend.

He blinked when the boy turned away from the cubbies and started walking towards him. What was he doing? Was he going to ask why Sherlock was staring? Because Sherlock had plenty of reasons to stare, in his opinion. _His arms, his hair, his smile, his laugh..._  He found himself scooting his rolling chair closer to meet the boy at the window despite his nerves. The boy grinned at him and Sherlock found it suddenly even harder to breathe.

Once the boy spoke Sherlock wondered how anyone was still breathing, as he thought all the air had been sucked from the premises, "Hey, I was wondering if you could hold onto my phone during the ride?"

Sherlock hadn't even realized that the boy had been holding his phone out until he pushed it forward a bit. Sherlock sent a hesitant look towards the cubbies, opening his mouth to say he could just put it in one of those and that no one would take it, but the boy cut him off with a light blush and a shy smile, "Alright, alright, you caught me. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you."

 Sherlock blinked and furrowed his eyebrows, asking, "Why?" Because honestly, why did the boy need or want an excuse to talk to him?

The boy gasped and avoided the question, leaning closer through the window, "Oh _wow,_ your voice is deep, no wonder you got this job, announcing for the, uh," he gestured vaguely to the roller coaster behind him before adding lamely, "thing." Sherlock tried to ignore how his eyes followed the action of the boy licking his lips again, just to save himself more embarrassment.

Before Sherlock could answer, a boy who was already on the coaster shouted, "John, come on!"

The boy turned and shouted back, "Just a mo!"

 _John._ It was a nice name, it suited him. It was an ordinary name, though for some reason the more Sherlock looked at him, the more he seemed to think he was more than some ordinary John. This John was...different. Out of all of the people across the globe who shared the name John, he couldn't think of anyone else who the name fit as perfectly as the boy in front of him.

The boy- John- held his phone out closer to Sherlock, saying, "Just hold onto it, will ya?" Sherlock hesitantly took the phone as John grinned, "So I can come talk to you again," he winked before rushing to the coaster.

Sherlock blinked several times and looked down to the phone in his hand. _Old, but taken care of. Not an IPhone or anything expensive like that. Practical, compact, and judging by the engraving on the back, it was given to John. By his brother, Harry, after breaking up with a girlfriend, Clara._   _Scratches on the charging port. A young gadget, so his brother started drinking at a young age. Family of alcoholics, most likely._ Sherlock had always been very observant. It ran in his family. His older brother, Mycroft, called it deduction. Observing what others merely saw in an effort to learn the most about the person as possible. He'd gotten quite good at it, and deducing the visitors was a great way to pass the time each day in his Booth of Terror. He usually deleted, which is another way of saying that he chose to forget, most of the facts. Not with John though. Every piece of information he gathered seemed to be vitally important to his very being and he saved it with care.

He had been staring at the phone before he came crashing back down to reality and setting it on the table next to the microphone stand. He stared after John as the blonde went to sit down, looking down as he found the same wide grin as he saw before being directed at _him_. He pushed the button next to the microphone to turn it on, clearing his throat as he said clearly and un-enthusiastically, trying to cover how flustered he was, "Welcome to Thorpe Park's Swarm. Please keep all hands and feet inside the coaster at all times," a beat passed before he added, "unless you're an idiot." He blinked when he heard the laugh again. It was a low rumble until it tumbled out of the boy's mouth and filled any space he was in, even if he was the only one laughing, which in this case, he was. Sherlock rarely ad-libbed when going through the regulations for the ride, simply because after the first week of working there, the act lost interest. He would occasionally add in a few things, but today he felt a bubbly feeling in his stomach and a little voice inside his head said,  _make him laugh again, go on._ The boy seemed to like his little improvisation, and Sherlock didn't let that information affect his little speech. Really. Honest.

"Footwear is required to ride the Swarm, even though that makes no sense as they'll probably fall off if they aren't tied tightly, and you'll make your parents buy you pair of unauthentic-looking knockoffs from a similar brand."

The laugh again. Why did he love hearing it so much? Why  _was_ he hearing it so much?

"Anyone who is pregnant, has a heart condition, spinal problem, or any extreme medical or physical condition rides this ride at their own risk, and they shouldn't be at an amusement park in the first place."

The noise filled his ears over the awkward murmuring from the other riders. He didn't catch Molly's confused gaze as she checked the harnesses of the riders, as he was looking at the boy and trying not to blush.

"All riders must be over one point four meters tall to ride the Swarm, or any other ride in the park, as it is _literally_ posted everywhere you look." This wasn't even an exaggeration. Throughout every waiting area, and on any open space available, there were little posters stating that riders must be that tall to ride, and no shorter.

He pushed the button to begin the ride, smirking as he heard John try to cover his own mouth with his hand to stop from laughing. He wan't sure why the boy found him so funny, but he certainly didn't have a problem with it.

"Thank you, and enjoy your ride. Or don't. I'll get paid either way."

He pushed the button again to turn off the microphone as the roller coaster began. He pushed his chair back with a content smirk on his face, until Molly practically flung herself through the open window, a grin on her face.

Sherlock rose an eyebrow and she practically shouted, "You were _flirting_!"

Sherlock felt a blush creep across his cheeks as he rolled his eyes and tried to excuse his behavior, "No, I wasn't."

Molly shook her head, leaning closer through the window, "Fine, then he was flirting with you! You  _have_ to talk to him again."

At the beginning of the summer, Molly had a huge crush on Sherlock, but after he abruptly told her that women weren't really his "area," she had made it her mission to find him a cute boy. This was how Sherlock constantly found himself being told, "Oh, what about him?" and, "He's hot!" and, "How do you know he isn't interested if you don't ask?!" He often wondered why she did this. Maybe because he had let it slip that he, a seventeen year old, good looking boy who was going into his final year of secondary school and then to university, had never been on a date. Or been in a real relationship at all. Or had his first kiss. She always ended each attempt to get Sherlock a date with the phrase, "There is no way I'm going to let you graduate and become an adult without having a teenage, summer romance!" Maybe she really was just trying to be nice, but Sherlock suspected that she needed to give herself something else to do rather than gawk over the mysterious boy.

Sherlock went back to fanning himself with the handbook, trying to say nonchalantly, "I'm going to have to, he left his phone here."

Molly grinned before gasping, "What if he asks you to ride with him on the carousel?!" Ah, Molly, always the hopeless romantic.

He blushed again and turned his attention to watch the roller coaster fly by, the breeze relieving him from the heat momentarily as he said over the shrieks of delight, "He isn't going to ask me to ride the carousel." He lowered his voice once the screams got further away, adding, "And I wouldn't ride it anyways, that thing is disgusting."

She pushed herself off of the ledge of the window, sighing dramatically, "The one time a really, _really_ , cute boy actually shows up around here, and you're too hardheaded to see that he digs you!"

"I'm not hardheaded, I'm practical," he explained simply.

She shook her head, "No, you're just avoiding the truth."

He opened his mouth to respond, but the coaster came roaring back into the station, and Sherlock wondered if it had gone faster or if his nerves just made it seem like he had no time to collect himself before he saw John again. Molly sent him a quick smile before going to open the gate to let the visitors exit the coaster. He turned to look at the boy as he got out of his seat, his breath hitching in his throat as he looked at him again. He kept staring at John, confusion written across his face as the boy gestured to the microphone in front of Sherlock. It took Sherlock a moment to remember he actually did have a job to do that didn't consist of staring at this stranger.

He had to rush to push the button, saying quickly, "I- uh- thank you for riding the Swarm and enjoy the rest of your stay at Thorpe Park."

He ran a hand through his hair nervously and turned off the mic. By the time he had turned his chair back to face the window, the boy was already there. He jumped a bit, his nerves getting to him as John leaned closer in the window, "I didn't mean to scare you," he grinned. A beat of silence passed before John said abruptly, "You're hilarious, I see why they gave you a microphone."

Sherlock looked at him with wide eyes before abruptly grabbing the phone and handing it to him. John rose an eyebrow, but took it anyways, saying, "Ta." He almost put it in his pocket before stopping and looking to Sherlock, smirking, "Did you put your number in?" Sherlock looked from the boy, to the phone, then back to the boy, before shaking his head. The boy frowned, and Sherlock noticed how it didn't sit right on his face. It made him look older, and Sherlock decided in that moment that John was never supposed to frown.

John handed the phone back quickly, saying, "Well, go on then." Sherlock took the phone quickly, because he certainly wasn't going to be the reason that horrible frown rested on the teenager's features.

He realized his hands were shaking as he put in his number and typed out  _Sherlock Holmes._  Sherlock handed it back to the boy and John grinned down at the screen. John seemed to reread the number and name over and over again before putting his phone in his pocket. He looked back to Sherlock and leaned his head against the side of the booth's window, saying innocently as though he hadn't just been shamelessly flirting with the boy, "Nice to meet you Sherlock Holmes, I'm John Watson." _  
_

Sherlock blurted out, "Yes, I know." Granted, he didn't know that his last name was Watson,  _a nice ring to it, "Watson",_ but he had already began associating every time he heard the name John with this particular face.

John furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side, obviously confused at this answer, until he heard the shout from the same boy he was talking to before riding the coaster. He was standing at the end of the walkway that lead up to the roller coaster, shouting, "John! What are you doing?"

John made a small O with his mouth as he realized that Sherlock overheard the boy from earlier, therefore learning his name. He seemed to nod, accepting this information instead of the alternative (which would have been Sherlock stalking him or snooping through his phone somehow, or both.) John sighed dramatically, muttering, "That loud mouth, just a mo."

He pulled back from the window, shouting back, "Just a second, Mike!" He turned back to Sherlock, asking, "I've got to go, but I'll see you later?"

Sherlock, still utterly confused and completely red from blushing, decided not to trust his voice and just nodded in response. John grinned before running down to Mike. Sherlock stared after him, asking himself tons of questions.  _What did he mean he'd see me later? When? And why would he want my number? Why was he even talking to me?_

Before he could really contemplate these questions, and even before Molly could interrogate him on what the  _hell_ happened, he heard the entrance gate open again. It was John Watson, again. Again? He was alone, and Sherlock glanced down to where he had seen John walking off before to see that Mike was still waiting for him. Sherlock turned back to to see John stroll through the empty waiting area as though he hadn't literally just ridden the roller coaster. He put his phone in a cubby and sent Sherlock a grin before sitting down in the same seat he sat in earlier. Molly fastened his harness with a confused smile, as Sherlock stared at him with the same confused expression, if not slightly more amused. He forgot, again, to speak into the microphone in favor of staring at John. 

John just kept grinning and gestured to the microphone, shouting over to him, "Go on, do your job."

Sherlock blinked before turning on the microphone, repeating the process of stating the rules, this time without his little jokes, and then pushed the button to start the ride. He and Molly watched in silence as the roller coaster twisted and turned with a lone passenger screaming and laughing from the adrenaline rush the ride gave him.

Once the ride finished, John hopped out of the seat and left through the exit gate, sending a wink to Sherlock as he walked away to meet his friends. Sherlock thought that was the last he would see of him, but he was wrong. About an hour later, when the vacationers started to brave the heat in favor of roller coasters and overpriced park food, he saw John get on board again, and they repeated the process. Then he came back after another hour, and another, and another.

Sherlock must have seen John at least several different times that day, and he felt down right giddy that John left his friends to wait in line to ride the same ride over and over again, laughing at the different jokes Sherlock would come up with. Once it was closing time, Sherlock actually felt disappointed that he wasn't going to see John again that day. It hit him as he was locking the door to his little booth that he might not ever see John again. Realistically speaking, just because John had his number, didn't mean he would actually call or try to contact him. Maybe he was just goofing around and was acting solely on an adrenaline high from all the rides. In one day John Watson's laugh and poofy hair had invaded Sherlock's life and now he felt like never seeing him again would be a terrible existence.

He had frozen where he stood as he contemplated the possibility of never seeing John again, and Molly was about to say something to him, when his phone's text alert went off. He didn't even bother trying to hide how eager he was to unlock the device. He read the text before abruptly turning and leaving, Molly trailing behind him, asking questions as they walked to the front of the park to the parking lot. She was annoyed when Sherlock refused to tell her anything, and made him swear to explain at work the next day before walking into the darkness towards her car. After he saw her car disappear down the road, he pulled out his phone again. 

He grinned at the glowing screen as he leaned against the front gate of the amusement park, the sun setting around him as he read and reread the text over and over again:  _You're working tomorrow, right? JW_

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a cute little oneshot that I found my inspiration for from tumblr user: "spacevinci"'s post. This sort of has my own little twist to it, as her AU idea was: ‘I work at the booth and you keep responding to the automated voice’ au, whereas in mine John just sort of shamelessly flirts with Sherlock and laughs at his jokes. I swear, I always mean to follow through with oneshots like this, and I never do XD Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Comment any suggestions and leave kudos if you liked it! Feel free to follow me on tumblr (impossible-ironic-introvert.tumblr.com)! I first posted this at four in the morning,so I went back and fixed a few grammatical errors and added some more details in there. Anyways, I hope it's a bit better now! Thanks!


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